Obscurum
by WolfsLegend
Summary: He didn't like those looks… the looks that told him everything. They were curious, judgmental, and somewhat confused. He saw them everywhere he went. Everywhere. They were curious and confused because he resembled the land's favored hero, the Hero of Time; judgmental because he looked like the hero overturned. No, he was not their beloved "Link." Far from it in fact.
1. Chapter 1

_**Obscurum**_Inspiration: Itch by Nothing but Thieves

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**_((Originally known as Dark Realm))  
Rated M for violence/gore  
_**

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Warning:**_ The _**FAN**_fiction will contain gore, violence, and moderate use of language  
_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own, take credit, or profit for any content within or related to Nintendo's Legend of Zelda game series  
I created Dark Realm in hopes of experimenting with Dark Link and after the first few chapters I stopped. Why? Because it was weak. That… and after 2-3 years later of not adding to it, just seeing it makes me want to throw up… it's terrible OnO You all were too nice to me XD Anyways, I am revamping my past concept and re-creating Dark Realm. It's being revamped so much that it has even been given a name change and a new reason to Dark Link's existence in a sense. The world will still revolve around the time after Twilight Princess (perhaps ten or so years). If you have questions or would like further input, the end of each chapter is where I will try to help with confusion and blah blah blabbity blah poptarts :3_**

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_Music Suggestion: _Blackened Roots by Adrian von Ziegler

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**Chapter 01 – Traveler**

_"You will always be a monster - there is no turning back from it. But what kind of monster you become is entirely up to you."_

― Julie Kagawa, _The Eternity Cure_

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He didn't like those looks… the looks that told him _everything_. They were curious, judgmental, and somewhat confused. He saw them everywhere he went. Everywhere. They were curious and confused because he resembled the land's favored hero, the Hero of Time.; judgmental because he looked like the hero overturned. It made him sick, to be placed next to the rotten pet of the goddesses. No, he was not their beloved _Link_. He had had to reiterate that time and time again and had even gone as far as to drive his begrimed blade through their heart to get them to understand that one, _simple_ fact.

Yes, he appeared as the Hero, came with every Hero to act as their eternal "shadow." One could not live without the other. Of course, he wasn't feeling true distaste to that fact. After dying in the Water Temple on his first days of creation, having waited for what felt like perpetuity for the Hero to stumble into his domain, life could not have felt so… delightful. For after that fateful day, the Hero had felt ashamed. That Hero, that man was so frail and merciful that the very thought of being created in his appearance made the inverted man shudder.

Waking further down the path, he did little to no caring at the blood that dripped from the very folds of his blackened tunic. On the contrary, he embraced the soaked clothes with a smile and open arms. The scent of death… that coppery scent… he loved it all. To speak the truth, the sight of blood and the smell of it _and_ even the presence of it made him feel giddy. It was the medicine to his insanity. Especially a delightful medicine when he himself had killed off a single village.

At the mere thought of such a wonderful deed, he glanced over his shoulder at the horizon. Crimson irises—deepest of reds—eyed the quaint village that he had visited just moments before, a darker twist to his lips forming at the sight of the moonlit mountains. The village denizens, like many before them, had shown him such peace and hospitality to the point where it had made him ill.

It made it all the more fun to kill them. Each and every one, falling from his blade. Blood strewn across the ground, the floors, painted on the walls, the objects that now littered their village paths. The corpses that fell with a sick thud, roses blossoming, and voices dying with the most musical of screams.  
The very memory made his heart flutter.

The best part? None of them saw it coming.

'_Made it all the more fun.'_

* * *

He stumbled toward the spring on shaking legs, fingerless gloved hands digging into the fresh water as if his very life depended on it. At his presence the magnificent glow of the water clouded, the clear surface trembling where his fingers did not touch, but he disregarded it. It and the stinging that bit at his flesh and whatever else the water touched as he gulped handfuls of the rough yet honeyed liquid. Ah… it reminded him of blood.

Yet he pulled back, aware that the girl was staring at him. The girl—perhaps a young woman… he couldn't really tell what with her baggy attire— who he had first thought to be a boy, had aided him down the dusty path of Kakariko Village to the spring of Eldin. It was utterly painful for him, to not turn on her and slit her delicate throat. Helping him? Dear goddesses, he felt so pathetic. Then again, he should have rationed his water better. Nevertheless, he kept with the act that he had shown her when she stumbled upon him like he had stumbled toward the water: an innocent and overwhelmed traveler who was far from home and in dire need of nourishment.

The girl looked on, black hair covered in the dust that the wind kicked up with a fiery passion. "Are you okay now, mister?" Her speech was deep and slow, irritating him, but he withheld the annoyance with a second's breath of a smile.

_'Trick them with innocence.' _His thoughts encouraged, making his smile more evident as he leaned back on his heels. Yes, trick them.  
"I'm fine th-thank you." He nodded tiredly, his voice still ragged with dryness and exhaustion. To add to the matter he allowed his smile to falter some, even brushed a hand across his forehead.

She seemed pleased yet worried at the reply. "That's good." She gave a soft nod, black hair bouncing, "Wait here and I'll go fetch father. He's the _medium_ here. He might be able to heal your wounds- if any- and find you a momentary place to stay." The girl smiled in a hopeful manner before darting off to the nearest hut, leaving the man with the crimson eyes and dusky hair to wait next to the still dulling spring.

Yet as she disappeared within the hut, he stood and walked toward that very shelter. The urge to hear their conversation was always amusing. That and the thought of eavesdropping gave him an odd thrill, but nothing like the thrill when spilling blood.

"Father! Father!" The blessing of sensitive hearing made him wince as he took a few steps away from the hut's door.

A sharp rustling resounded in response, a groggy voice sounding far from irritated at possibly be awoken, "What is it dear child?" A masculine voice reverberated, a thumping of feet sounding off right at the last word.

"We've a visitor, father."

"A visitor? Why are you so frantic over a visitor?"

"He-He's different. He looks really scary, but… but he-he needs a place to stay. You said yourself that hospitality is what we're known for, right?"

"Yes, no matter how scary they may seem. You didn't fall to rudeness and question him of his origin, did you?"

"No, of course not!" The voice was growing nearer to the door. At this fact, the man retreated back to his seat near the spring. Just in time too…

The hut's doors opened, a man stalking out like a sleep deprived fellow as he ran a tanned hand- flesh as dusty and dark as the sand beneath their feet- through the longest of braid of tangled hair. Right upon seeing the man, he grew tense. A shaman. This could be tricky. Of course knowing that the tired father was a shaman did not make him tense up, no, it was the way that he was eyed. The shaman gave him a look of momentary horror.

Perhaps it was the appearance to begin with since it seemed that red eyes always did scare those about him. Then again it could be his stunning resemblance to a certain, pathetic _Hero_. Either way he found himself smiling sweetly in return to the gaze and stood up once again.

"Welcome to Kakariko Village." The shaman bowed, his daughter who darted up behind him doing the same. "I am Renado, the shaman here." He rose from the bow, waving an absent hand behind him to the rest of the village, "May I offer you our hospitality? You look weary from your travels."

The red-eyed man allows his smile to gain a syrupy length, nodding, "Yes, I am rather fatigued and quite famished. Not only that but the heat is getting to me. Odd, the fields are not as hot as it is here." He sighed, running a hand across his forehead once more.

"That is because Death Mountain, home of the Gorons, neighbors us." The man nodded once more, internally rolling his eyes. Yes, of course he knew that. Any imbecile would know that.

_'Play dumb. Trick them with innocence.'_

"Yes, well… about the hospitality you mentioned?" Asked the man.

Renado shifted. Though his unsteady gaze from earlier had gone, the man could tell that the shaman was still entirely unsure of him. As he should be. "How long do you intend to stay?"

"A day or two, enough to where I am fully rested and able to continue travelling without any exertion."

"All right then," Renado finally displays a smile as he turns to his daughter, his attire of a medium's long tunic brushing at the dirt, "Luda, preparations." The young girl at his side nods, darting off and further into the village without another word. "My daughter will find you a room within the Elde Inn. You may stay as long as you like. Oh, but…" the shaman paused, having bowed again, "I do not believe I got your name, traveler?"

The man's smile faltered slightly, the voices that resounded in his head giggling manically. It was clear that the shaman did not trust him. It didn't take a blind or deaf man to take note to that. The tone and body posture was literally screaming that detail of distrust. Perfect. Oh but he had been questioned. Name. Names. Titles. Adjectives. Word. "Link." It took all he had not to giggle, especially when the shaman's eyes shuddered.

"L-Link?"

"Yes, is my name a problem?"

"No, of course not mister…"

"Link."

Renado eyed him further, but after a silent moment he turned his gaze up and away, "Yes, quite right… Link." He seemed to detest speaking the name as if it bit at his insides, "My daughter is preparing a room as we speak. Tonight it shall be ready for you so for now please become acquainted with our village."

Again the shaman bowed, turning once more in his long tunic, and returning to the safe confines of his hut. Of course, if he had stayed a moment longer and glanced at the traveler who deemed himself as "Link," then he would have caught sight of that ominous smile that took shape over the smile of an honest man. If only he had listened to his wariness of the man's very name, presence, and appearance. If only he had listened to the whispers that assaulted his conscience right at the traveler's voice. _If only… _

_'Far too easy. These fools trust in people too much for peace. Let's destroy it. Help them to bathe in their blood.'_ That wicked leer grew, gaining a dark gravity. Ah, he loved the voices that ran amok within his head. Delightful.

* * *

The air tasted foul. Perhaps it was the dust that had taken refuge within his throat or the fact that there was not a drop of blood to be seen. Of course the thought occurred to him to spill his own, but it would not be the same. No, he need to find wonderment in spilling another's lifeblood. To see their expression, their crumbling future flash before their eyes, and to watch as they squirmed, screamed, and cried out with the last bit of dying breath.

His very addiction was entirely unhealthy. At the very acceptance of that fact, his fingers curled tighter against the hilt of his sword. Yes, he knew… he knew it all too well. The amor for something so red and so defiled was not natural, even for a shadow, but something drew him to it. Perhaps it was the fact that he himself could not bleed, not naturally. No, he would only bleed if the Hero bled. He would only feel pain if the Hero felt pain.

A reflection, nothing but a reflection.

Yet he withdrew from the thoughts, determined to trap them in the back of his mind. Now was not a time to feel pity or a sense of pathetic longing. Shadows could not feel after all or so the damned Goddesses insisted.

"Enough indulging yourself, _'Link.'_" The dark haired man giggled at his own name, finding it foreign when placed against him. As he spoke to himself he stroked the double-edged blade in such a manner that one would question if the inanimate object was indeed a living, breathing thing in need of affection. "My blade thirsts for blood." His very voice dripped with misplaced glee, the imaginings almost becoming too much for even him to handle.

**IIIIII**

Luda paused in her way back to the shaman's quarters, eyes wavering over the highest point in Kakariko Village. The abandoned building, next to Barnes's storage shed, was sharing its view with the strange traveler with the _bloody_ eyes. Already news had traveled within the village's thinning populous. Already the children had started to deem him as the Bloody Eye after having heard of Luda's tale. The elders saw her as a miniature hero for saving the dehydrated traveler, but they held no fascination over him as the children and she did. No, like her father they only held caution. At the very thought of his eyes again, the feminine youth shuddered. Those eyes were what people dreamed of in nightmares. They were so emotionless, even when the man had smiled at her. To think, he resembled Hyrule's beloved hero, but with his eyes there was a clear contrast. This "Link" was not _Link_… not that she had hoped that the inverted male might be or anything.

Within the confines of Elde Inn, a bulky mass of a creature leans over the bar counter. The muscles bulge over the flimsy stand, weight making the very wood creak under stress. The white strands of hair are brushed to the side with a puff of puzzled air. Unlike the pasty flesh of man, the creature's skin takes on the appearance of dirt but feels just as strong and sturdy as any rock. To say the least, the hulking figure of the creature was entirely intimidating. Not only that, but its smell of burnt wood and sulfur was just as intimidating to the point of making one nauseous. "Link?" The creature speaks in a rough, grinding accent to the point where the slur of the vowel almost makes the spoken word sound like 'Lounk.' "Well, the strange brother does appear as the Hero, indeed, but he varies in color. Especially in the eyes.

Renado nodded, having taken a seat on one of the barstools across from the creature that towered over him (and the rocky man was even leaning against a counter) to the point where the medium had to crane his neck to meet the gentle eyes of his Goron friend. Gorons, ever since the coming of Link—Hyrule's Link—he had come onto good terms of friendship with Cor Goron and the rest of his rocky brethren. The relationship between man and rock had grown to the point where both were welcome within each other's provinces, personal abodes, or even political matters without a second of reconsideration.

"Yes, I agree with you there, my friend." The tanned shaman agrees, "But not only that, the presence he holds is much…" he trailed, a clenched hand running under his chin. What was the word he desired? Sinister, dark, foreboding… "either way, I didn't question him about his name. I'm sure many children have been named after Hyrule's Hero, but still the resemblance is almost frightening."

"But you do not wish to judge the weary man?"

"No. It would be wrong of me to judge him when I know nothing about him."

"What of Eldin, have you heard from him when the traveler came about?" The Goron shifted, the counter protesting with a terrible groan.

Eldin was the guardian of the spring within Kakariko's borders, the light of the province that both Kakariko and Death Mountain inhabited. Every "blue moon" Renado would hear whispers from the light spirit, predictions and omens. It was his task as a medium to be able to hear and reiterate the words of Eldin and his siblings, the other three that guarded the rest of Hyrule. At the mentioning of said light spirit, the shaman reluctantly shook his head. No, he had heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. "No, I've just felt premonitions ever since I said good day to him; however, I could be falling into deep planes of paranoia."  
"What if he's simply not from Hyrule?"

"That's possible, but I doubt it. The mountains that surround Hyrule are far too tall and far too steep for such a journey."  
"But if this traveler is like the hero then it would be but a simple task."

"Like I said, it's possible but I doubt it."

"Maybe it's just a coincidence then. Stop worrying over it if Eldin spoke nothing of it. Now come, let us return to our previous chat, about the matters of a feast between our domains." Cor Goron grinned, rocky lips folding back as dust fell from the very gesture.

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Red-eyed Link found comfort wallowing in the worn sheets that reeked of dust and earth, his eyes resembling hollow pits against the bedside candle's dull flickering as he leered up at the wooden ceiling. Ever since he left the highest point on the village he had retreated to the only available room within Elde Inn. The limited space within the room unnerved him at first, but after having taken off all of his wears—only keeping his undershirt and worn, gray pants—did he find himself liking the clustered room what with its wooden crates stacked haphazardly against the walls, deer antlers and cleaned skulls hanging carelessly above to the point where a perfectionist would have died at the sight. Not only that but there was something about the sight and smell of dust… perhaps it had to do with the fact that he had dwelled within the chambers for longer than an hour.

Being an impatient man, he grew bored of waiting outside. It was rather difficult to hold his sinister thoughts from becoming visible where everyone could see. No, he had to wait for the perfect time. Spilling blood haphazardly was not a fun sort of sport. No, it wasn't as thrilling. It didn't bring that dark glow to his eyes, the glint in his blade, or the smile on his lips.

Link turned to the side, taking pleasure in seeing his reflection bounced back within his blade's features in the corner, his happiness as brought to an abrupt end when the pitter patter of a knock roused him. The inverted man rose slightly from the bed, the undershirt hanging loosely from a tight, detailed frame as the knocker dared not wait for his response and instead came right on in, a boyish face popping in with a hesitant smile.

"You've been cooped up in here all day. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Luda questioned, a wary hand brushing dust from her dusky hair. The man mentally groaned, but instead of speaking his desired thoughts (which included slitting her throat and gouging out her eyes) he smiled.

The young woman cringed; the candle's light not giving the traveler's smile any justice. Then again… perhaps those were not shadows that she was seeing in that snowy smile. Not that she wanted to accept that fact, that the smile of a man who shared a legend's name was dark and twisted as the candle made it out to be, "Sir is there—"

"I heard you the first time, _child_." Link smiled, his tone teetering away bit by bit from the sugariness she had somewhat grown used to, "And no, I'm afraid not, but thank you. I think I'll just rest." He had meant to wave her off then like one would to a servant, but instead he drew himself further away from the comforts of the bedding, "What time is it, _dear child_?" It was difficult keeping the mirth away from his voice, his senses having itched for blood for Goddesses knows how long.

The girl was perplexed. Of all the things for the blood-eyed man to inquire, he wondered over time itself? Luda shrugged the confusion over, glancing slightly over her shoulder to peer out a window from across the inn's hall. The hour was indeed late and by the way that the shadows clung to the outside of the man's chambers gave her an idea of the time. Returning her reluctant gaze to the man, stifling a gasp at the darkness that she barely caught swirling in those demonic eyes, "Why, sir, it's past sunset."

_'Clearly.'_ Link had gathered that much already, having absentmindedly counted the seconds, the minutes, and the Goddess forsaken _hours_ since he had returned from the pinnacle. "Is it midnight?"

Again, she glanced over her shoulder, "It appears so but I cannot tell… can't see the moon or shadows that haven't been disturbed by the candle lighting to tell." Luda spoke, raising a curious brow. The youth wanted to question the man, that much was clear, but for some reason she withdrew from the queries. No, she only gave a brisk bow of her head, a parting phrase of "good night," and then left just as abruptly as she had appeared.  
Right at her absence the smile split on Link's face, growing tenfold to that of a madman's sneer. He'd almost lost it with her at the very idea of it being midnight. Ah, midnight, his absolute favorite time.

The sick pleasure of listening to another's screams motivated him from his comfort, withdrawing from the bed in such quickness that one would wonder if the very furniture burned him. Right as his bare feet brushed against the dusty, gnarled wood did he literally dive to his trusty, obsidian blade. His movements were beyond childish and dramatic as he picked up the sword in an almost delicate fashion, cradling it within his arms as he all but beamed back at his inverted reflection. Those bloodied irises of his pulsed, glazing over with fancies.

"I cannot wait for blood to taint your blackened shine once more, my beloved sword." His voice, much unlike the tone he had spoken with all of the day, fell to something sinister. It sounded like a cold wind, unforgiving and ghostly. "To see the flesh be ripped apart by your lovely edge."  
_'Simply wonderful. Deli—"_

His eyes snapped to the door, glaring menacingly at it as if it had been the one to disturb his thoughts. Of course it wasn't the poor door, but the sound that resonated past it that troubled him. Shattering, glass… no, not entirely, but something fragile… shattering. The very sound of it made him cringe. That person, whoever it was to make such a dreadful sound would surely be the _first_ to spill blood.

Link stalked toward the very door, annoyance coating his stride. The hall's dull light did little to smother the wicked smile that still clung to his face as well as the glowing tinge of black that corrupted his senses. He walked the corner, hearing a soul's muttering as well as another shatter of _something_ and Goddess be damned… it unnerved him. With silent haste—as much as one could when going down old, squeaking wood—he descended the stairs, turning just in time to watch a plate fall from a cabinet across from the counters of the inn's bar.

The one to create such a disgusting noise, an Elde Inn maid, moved in such a way that it brought out her fragile age (as if the flapping, wrinkling skin and snow, glossed hair was not enough to prove the seemingly century old woman's era), her back stiffening at the slightest gesture of bending down to pick one of the plates that had fallen from the cupboard overhead. "Watch y'self, ole girl." She tsks, coming back up with a series of pops resounding from her spine. "Don't wan' t' go at breaking the last good lookin' plate." Her drawl reminds Link of a cat being rubbed up against a cactus, elongating the vowels and cutting the words short in such a manner that it irritates him to no end, making his fingers curl even tighter about the begrimed blade still cradled in his arms. He'd wandered away from his room, wondering over his first set of actions to help in starting the blood bath when he'd heard the fall of plates. She'd picked up every last plate dropped with the speed of a snail. Her old and surely wrinkled muscles and bones groaned with each bend toward the floor.

Link rested against the banister, eying the elderly maid across the bar counter with a look that spoke of pure malice. Reconsideration was something foreign to him, his conscience having died a long time ago with his innocence for already he was scanning the room, a series of thoughts illustrating the woman's demise. There were so many ways to kill a soul… so many ways yet he would only be able to create one end at a time. It was sad, really.

_'Enough, it should be simple. Just slaughter her, paint the floors in the macabre blood and be done with it. Even if she wakes up the whole village and gives them time to react, it will do them no good.'_

He'd been so enraptured in the very idea of it that he hadn't realized that he old woman had stopped bending and muttering. No, she'd somehow gotten closer to him, crossed the expanse of the room, without him taking note. "Sorry sir," she drawled, her voice sounding worn as she gave a bit of the bow in her gray uniform. The very gesture, perhaps the thirtieth she'd practiced, almost made the wooden, minute headpiece that held her hair in an unceremonious bun fall to the floor, "did I wake y'?"

The man eyed her for a moment, knowing well that his twisted smile was still visible for all the world to see. Was she too blind to see it or perhaps too stupid? Then again, perhaps she saw his twisted smile as something kind? Perhaps tired? He glanced about them, the only source of light being the candle at the bar. Ah, perhaps she couldn't see his features entirely.  
_Wonderful._

Forcing a kindhearted laugh (the very action making him wince), "Oh, not at all. In all honesty, I couldn't really sleep and… well…"  
The maid nodded knowingly, laughing in return, "I'm sorry t' hear tha'. I wish I could help y'." As she speaks she turns her back on him, almost inviting him to introduce her to his blade, but just as the thought tickles his fancy… she moves back to the bar to deal with the fallen dishes.

"May I ask what you're doing?" Link questioned in mock curiosity as he set to descending the last set of stairs. Right upon the last step he ventured across the room to the maid's vicinity, fingers curling even tighter about the hilt.

She doesn't look at him, doesn't even catch that there's something entirely off in his voice. Instead, she stacks up the fallen plates and continues at her previous task, "I've been doin' the dishes since noon. Puttin' them up is a hassle." As she spoke she neared the cabinet, going on her tiptoes to place a trembling stack of plates back on a withered and dusty looking shelf.

Link took his time, going around the counters and even going as far as to aid her in placing the plates atop the shelf. In truth, he didn't want to hear the shattering again. "You don't have help?" He inquired, giving the maid room right as she turned to shake his hand out of thanks (of which he gladly refused).

Her hand stayed in the air, waiting a moment for him to shake, but when he showed not notion to take her palm, she let up and straightened her posture. In the candle's close light she could see the unhealthiness lingering on the boy's skin, and the red in his eyes were almost horrific. Was he sick? Most likely, but she wouldn't dare embarrass the poor youth and ask him. "No, the other maids are young and always whine that the night duties are far t' difficult. I usually end up doin' all the nightly chores m'self." She gestured to herself and displayed her smiling self with pride.

"So you're alone then?" Link raises his head slightly, dragging the tip of his blade against the bottom of the counters. The maid looks at the sword now, apparently having not noticed its presence until the movement.

"Yes, why? Do y' need somethin', sir?"

An innocent step forward. "No, not really." Another step. "Actually, there is something."

The elderly woman is a little confused now, taking evident notice to the man's not-so-subtle approach now as she backs up into the cabinets. "W-What may that be?" She's caught on to something… something entirely off, unnatural. There's something…

Wrong.

She can't find a reason for it but she can feel it. The movement of the youth, the way the candle light made him look like death itself, and the way the blade moved up in the air.

He brought the blade to her throat, his bloodied eyes narrowing, "I want to know what kind of screams you'll make when my blade cuts through your throat." His voice is filled with such innocence, such divine curiosity that it makes the woman shudder.

"I want to know what your blood tastes like."

She screamed, hands clawing at the air as the blade sliced clean through her flesh as if it was mere paper. It slashed at her throat, digging down past the collarbone to find a spot to claim as home. The point drove forward, digging through the ribcage. Cold steel froze everything it touched as it plowed through, the edge gouging the heart. Her screams, sharp and grave, died almost immediately with a gurgle and a squelch of her skewered organ. The blood ran, hot and fresh, and splattered and stained everything: the floor, the maid's uniform, her flesh, _Link's_ flesh, his clothes, and the blade itself.

The sight of it, the sound of it… it brought possible tears of joy.

* * *

Luda** is indeed older than the "Luda" in TP. Dark refers to her as a child and a little girl to be insulting **

I** feel incredibly insecure... I feel that I have not done Dark justice :/**

11** pages**

Below** is a piece of the story's original writing.**

_Sitting up, he crosses his legs and stares at the wall across from him. Evil thoughts conjure in his twisted mind as he thinks through his plans. Happy with his plans so far, he scoots off the bed, and picks up his sword. He lifts it to eye level, admiring the reflection of himself, and looks into his crimson eyes. A wicked grin crosses amongst his lips and his eyes glaze with the look of evil. "You shall spill blood over this pathetic village my beloved sword." He grins, his perfect white teeth glistening in the candlelight. A clatter of dishes below him erupts from the floorboards, startling him for a moment. The creepy grin appears again as he lowers the blade and sets his hand on the doorknob._  
I hope to have greatly improved from **that**...?  
**R&R? Positive and negative feedback is always welcome** (honest)


	2. Chapter 2

**So many things piss me off tonight… it's just… wonderful… so I thought, "why not vent with Dark Link by my side? "**

**_TheShadowEclipse_****: Thank you for your review! I'm glad that you are interested in the story. Also thank you for your criticism. Yes... I agree with you... much too redundant ^^; It's not just you, I assure you. I saw that too when I was touching it up on . I shall go through the first chapter and fix that up a bit.**

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**Chapter 02 – Bloodstains  
**Music Suggestion: Fatal Lullaby by Adrian Von Zielger

_"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."_

― Terry Pratchett,_ Reaper Man_

* * *

The medium, Renado, heard it first. A scream that could make a Goron cringe in fear, make that of blood turn cold. Oh but he did not hear it, no… he _felt _it. The feeling was like utter darkness smothering every bit of light that he held. Only then, at that moment, did Eldin speak. The light guardian whispered manically, screaming its heart out within his own mind. The voice of the light spirit, it sounded like nothing he had ever heard.

_"The Darkness, the darkness, oh the darkness! Run for thy soul for once it sets its sight, there is nothing… _nothing_, to stop it. Encroaching, noisome darkness. It will end everyone and every_thing_. Paint the dirt with blood. Not even _light_… not even _light_…"_

The spirit's mad speech didn't make him any less scared as he searched the village pathways for his daughter, knowing well that she as well as the rest of the forming villagers had heard it. Yet as he pushed his way through the forming masses, past his Goron companions, toward the Elde Inn in a desperate search did the doors of that very inn open.

To say that the silence was deafening would have been an understatement as all frantic eyes focused on the figure that stalked out of the inn with the stride of a cat. Ruby eyes glowed as the traveler from today, with blood splattered on his features, laughed ominously. In his hand he held a blade and in the other, a head. To the crowd, the first victim was a wonder. Who was it? They couldn't tell. It was hard to even recognize a feature on the head what with the endless amounts of gore meshed onto the skin.

"How dare you!" A Goron roared against the tragic silence, its voice making the ground beneath it shake, the denizens about him shuddering at such a sudden interruption. As the creature from earth spoke, it stalked toward the inn's ramp, stone eyes glaring upward at the menacing traveler. With another roar it charged, rock arms flexing out before it as it set to ram the frail human down with a simple blow.

The blade cut through rock. Its very touch brought a swarm of sparks as it grazed the skin of the Goron at first, and then it found a place to settle in… the blade digging in sideways at the creature's arm. Red blood appeared, at first too small to catch, but then it came as a waterfall; the fresh crack in the Goron's flesh acting as a pressurized spout.

Then the wail of a Goron came. A cry that was rare to the ears. It was something sorrowful, soul wrenching, and _scary_. Something unnatural and bitterly sweet should not be reverberated by a man of rock yet it came like the wind, echoing against the dusty facades of Kakariko.

At the cry of the Goron, the denizens of Kakariko scattered like cockroaches to light. They ran this way and that, screaming and crying, interrupting each other as they ran. They left those that stumbled and fell to the dark traveler's blade, selfishness bringing them down to their groveling knees. Surely, if the cry of a Goron had not occurred then they would have stayed, insisted on seizing the murderer… something _courageous_. However, as with every soul...

Link walked steadily from the rampart, raising his blade with an easy flick of the wrist. Just as before, the blade settled in and tore. It cut through the rock as if the tough flesh was nothing but tissue paper.

He moved like a ghost, wandering without any true desire of destination. Wherever a Kakariko fled to he simply followed with an attitude that one would describe as "boredom." After all, the finesse of the blade made it appear as if he had done it a thousand times over or that he truly found no fascination in it all. Yet in his mind, his thoughts were muddled with bliss as his withered conscience withered even further.

Of course he found some humanity still bubbling inside, though weak, and it bothered him to the point that he paused at the moment of his blade rising to cut through a mother and child.

_They did nothing. They are simple-minded. They are innocent. You are in wrong. You should-_

**S****_hhhh_****lick**

He pulled the blade back, eyes looking over the blood from the additional two corpses. If his thoughts were not so focused on what was happening about him then he would have laughed at the petite voice that tried desperately to grab his attention. It had the _gall_ to make him feel guilty, of all things!

_'They are selfish. They judge. They are disgusting. They are dirty. They are just as dark and inverted as I.'_

* * *

The medium's daughter ran with desperation, having missed that black blade twice already. Already her clothes were splattered in blood, her face burning from the hot substance. One of her best friends, someone she was following closely behind, had been cut down right in front of her eyes. It had happened so quickly yet so slowly. She'd seen the traveler turn, caught the look in his eyes as he recognized her, and saw his sword shift.

She'd slipped in the blood, stumbled over her friend's body, and had kept running. The guilt was suffocating. However, the wound from the sword had been fatal. A cut through the throat.

Leda slipped again, but this time over soft dirt that originated from the village's cemetery. The feeling was relief at first. Her ancestors, Eldin even, would surely save her. A medium was precious to the light spirit and those passed, right? At least, that is what her father reiterated to her over and over when she finally understand the true and complex meaning of death itself.

Yet when she heard the screams, louder than the last few that had started the nightmarish mantra, she doubted everything. The cemetery stayed as silent as ever, cold and eerie as she raced between the cockeyed headstones in desperation. There was no help waiting for her here.

Feeling lost and alone she finally settled herself on near the cemetery stairs, cowering behind a forgotten headstone that spoke of some lost soul that had surely had an unexpected death. Perhaps nicer than hers. Perhaps more peaceful. Perhaps… her heart stopped, aching terribly in her chest as if someone had impaled her and grasped at her heart with a tight fist. A scream, _the_ scream itself, drew her to a slobbering mess. Even if she had never heard it in her life, she knew.

_Father._

* * *

He had lost count, to be honest. Most of the times he cared less to do something so simple. That and he usually forgot after the third (maybe the seventh) victim. Yet as he slew another villager, this one a male, he found his gaze darting to the right near the hut that he had first sighted upon stumbling on the poor, innocent village of Kakariko. The medium was there, seemingly calling out a name, but from the screaming and panicking about them he heard nothing.

_'He judged.'_ The phrase repeated itself like a mad man chanting. It made him nearly snarl as he stalked toward the fumbling medium, eyes glaring at the blacked braids and their graying patches. He judged. He. Judged. The way that he had spoken Link's name, the way he had looked at him, the way he _judged_.

_'He will _die_.'_

Renado didn't see it coming. He was too focused in calling his daughter's name. Dear Eldin, he was frantic. He paced, unsure of where to look for her, but he knew that if he stayed in one place then he would be slain just as the others. Yet he was so fueled with worry that his thoughts never truly came. No, all he could think was of Leda's safety. He had promised her mother. He had promised…

_"I won't be there to see her grow up Renado." Her voice was weak and tired as her hand clung limply to his own, the soft and warm skin feeling rough and cold to the touch._

He called her name again, desperation making his voice crack.

_"I won't be there to help her." She was coughing, struggling so hard, but through all the pain she had refused to cry._

Somewhere behind him, he felt the coldness creeping in… perhaps a warning. Nevertheless, he still persisted and kept his back to the descending atmosphere pressing at his back. He promised.

_"Promise me that you will always be there for her. No matter what. Promise me that you will-"_

The blade's tip pointed at his back, scraping at his spine before finding a home between his left shoulder blade and his spine. Slow at first, perhaps even gentle, or maybe that was just time itself slowing down right at death. The pain didn't even hit until he heard the blood curdling laughter, felt the hot breath against his flesh.

_"always protect her."_

"Good night." A voice whispered behind him, chuckling all the more as the blade was withdrawn. At its withdrawal he felt the pain, the void. Something dreadful, something missing.

_He tightened his hold on her hand in clear desperation. "Don't say that, please. You will make it. I will make sure of that. Eldin will surely listen to me this time."_

His killer stepped over him in such a casual manner that if he were not dying, worrying over his daughter, and on the verge of losing his mind to said worry… he probably would have felt disgusted to some degree. Yet there he lay, in a puddle of forming blood. There he was, forced to watch that dreadful being head to the cemetery of Kakariko. The only place that he had not looked for…

The only place…

_He held the little thing in his arms, a smile already forming on his lips even after having dealt with such a tragedy. "I will call you…" he paused, tickling the infant's chin as it played with his braids, "Leda, after your mother."_

_Leda._

* * *

She peeked over the headstone, instantly regretting it as she easily spotted the murderer of her fellow villagers walk up the hill. Even from here she could spot his red eyes. They nearly glowed brighter than the moon. Seeing them made her shudder as she crouched back down, fingers digging into the dirt. Yet she found herself glancing again and…

Leda looked up, her breath catching in her throat. The moon's light had died away, tainted by a looming shadow accented with crimson. The stench was enough to gag over, but the look in his eyes was something that ripped her stomach asunder. He looked down on her like she was prey, some sort of child's game that he had beat too many times to count. He crouched down to the headstone's level, making her flinch back as his eyes met hers evenly. "You're the last." The traveler smiled, leaning forward as he stabbed his sword into the earth beside her.

* * *

On the third day, Kakariko's additional cemetery was found. The blood was so much to the point where it tainted Eldin's spring. Corpses were piled high on top of the other, slammed against walls or rock, and the rest were simply too damaged to be noticeable. The scene was so grotesque and tragic that it reached Hyrule's Castletown in a heartbeat.

**Kakariko Massacre!**

**Date 22-342-1111**

**Kakariko village is closed off to the public due to a tragic event. On the 341****st**** the village was found covered in blood and corpses. **

**"I couldn't believe it," said soldier Bransen of the 22****nd**** Royal Hyrule Armada, "when I was called in to clean up a 'mess,' I had no idea that it was something like this. I've never seen so much death. I'll never be able to get the scene out of my head."**

**Currently, no survivors have been found and there has been no evidence as to the identity of the murderer or the reason. **

**Current death count is unknown. The list of the dead will be provided next week. A mass funeral has yet to be set.**

**...**

She read it over and over, the short news that had made its home in the hearts of her people. It was unnerving, painful. She felt it her fault even though she knew nothing of it. Despite the fact, here she was tightening her fingers on the parcel in an act of deep remorse. Already her brown eyes were trembling, turning glassy from a promising of tears. Already her cheeks were growing puffy, golden-brown strands plastering themselves to her warming cheeks.

_Stay strong. Stay strong. Stay strong._ She took a deep breath, dropping the bringer-of-bad-news and brushing hastily at her long braids and cheeks. Blinking away the tears she stood abruptly, making her delicate wooden chair what with its Triforce carved back fall to the floor.

"Milady?" She flinched, unaware that one of the servants had slipped into her chamber unannounced. Yet as she turned, white gown twirling at her kneecaps, ready to scold the servant did she stop in mid-turn.

"Link?" Her eyes widened at the speaker, having not recognized his voice in such a long time.

The boy—no—a man smiled, nodding slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. I merely wanted to surprise you. Is now a bad time? You look distraught. Is your father fairing well?" The man tilted his head, honeyed locks swaying slightly.

She took a moment to reply. Confused. He was in his Ordon clothes, reminding her that he had declined the offer to stay in the castle so many years ago. She wanted to tell him the clothes made him look younger, but withdrew because that wasn't entirely true. No, he was more muscular and tanned. His face was filled out more and his voice was deeper, stronger.

"Zel?"

Ah, yes… confusion. He seemed to not know about the massacre otherwise he would act quiet, angry, uncomfortable. He would say how he should do something about it because he was and still is Hyrule's chosen hero. He'd done it before when something like this happened to a couple of poor passerby in the southern side of Hyrule Field. Of course, since he lived in Ordon it is likely that he wouldn't hear of such tragic news.

"It's nothing. Just feeling a little stressed from my duties as of late. Nothing new." Zelda smiled with finality, giving him a look that told him to not press the issue. "Now, what brings you here?"

* * *

It's **2:11am here :D**

This **chapter is unedited so please excuse me for multiple ellipses, verb confusion, misspelling, and chaotic commas! **

No, **in the Legend of Zelda world Leda's mother is not known.**

Momentary **introduction to Zelda and Link, yay!**

Be** jealous of my awesome newspaper article OnO (it's terrible, I know XD)**

5**-6 pages, I know it's short, but would you rather I draw it out for you or... I dunno...**

Below** is the story's original writing (warning, you might throw up!):**

_"So tell me, what are your last words girl… before you die?" He asks as he studies his blade, seeing her reflection in it. Straightening himself, he walks from behind the stone, and stands in front of her. His blade is pointed to her as it shows her reflection in the moonlight. "Please sir, please don't do this!" She cries, leaning against the stone in fear. "Link" only laughs at her reply, how stupid of her. Like he would waste his time to kill all the others, but let her live! He raises his sword to her chest and grins, "Just close your eyes and this will be over in a mere second." _

_ The sound of Luda's cries echo loudly through the village, soaring over the corpses, and through Death Mountain. Her cries even frighten the crows flying overhead. It lasts only a few seconds and suddenly stops, her cry being choked by death and blood. _

_ As "Link" turns around and heads down the path, he leaves a corpse behind. It leans against the gravestone, its blood staining the gray stone and its attire._

I **still need a lot more practice so please feel free to land me ****_respective_**** criticism c: **


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